


I Will Keep the Bad Things from You

by Keith_Wilde



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: F/M, Jonathan Toews is so in love with Patrick Kane, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, Way more dramatic than necessary, Will Jonathan Toews make Patrick Kane soup tomorrow, Yeah you know he will, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:13:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24851374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keith_Wilde/pseuds/Keith_Wilde
Summary: An overly dramatic sickfic for these trying times, because I don't know about you, but all I want is for Jonathan Toews to tell me everything is going to be alright.
Relationships: Patrick Kane/Jonathan Toews
Comments: 2
Kudos: 90





	I Will Keep the Bad Things from You

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first fic for this fandom, though I've been getting quite deep into it and there's a LOT of good stuff to live up to. I've got a few angstier ones on the back burner, but things just generally suck so much right now that this felt more necessary.
> 
> This fic includes a heavy dose of wish fulfillment in the form of just Jonny telling Patrick he's valuable as like, a person, which I feel like people don't tell Patrick Kane enough. Legitimately the way Jonny praises Patrick to the media in real life, I feel like he knows Patrick doesn't get this enough and it makes my heart happy to see him do it.
> 
> Additionally, title is from "I Will Keep the Bad Things From You" by the Damnwells, which has just become associated with Jonathan Toews in my head and which would make a beautiful accompaniment to this fic if you get the chance. 
> 
> As always, thanks for any and all feedback and I hope you enjoy!

“Are you watching that  _ again? _ ” Patrick heard Jonny appear behind him. His low voice was suddenly in Patrick’s ear, large hands bracketing him on either side of the back of the couch. Even sick, it gave Patrick the echo of a thrill to have Jonny’s breath on the back of his neck. 

Today, of course, it was more about intimacy than actual sex. Which made sense when one had spent most of the day with their head in the toilet. Now Patrick had gone full-burrito, blankets pooled around him despite Jonny’s nagging that his fever meant his body was already overheating. His curls were stuck up in an all-day bedhead. Purple Gatorade bottles littered the coffee table. And yes, he  _ was  _ watching the Sabres’ 1999 Stanley Cup series on DVD again. What could he do? Even though they lost, it was Patrick’s version of comfort food.

“So what if I am?” Patrick sniffed. “Are you going to deny your sick boyfriend his one joy in life?”

Jonny rolled his eyes at Patrick, whose pout dissolved into a shit-eating grin. Clearly he was on his way to recovery if he could still rise to his usual levels of dramatism. 

“Ah, yes,” Jonny replied, kissing the top of Patrick’s sweaty head, “your one joy in life. Definitely no joy from--” kiss to the side of his head-- “your millions of dollars--” kiss-- “your penthouse apartment--” kiss-- “your three championship rings--” kiss-- “or your extremely understanding, handsome, patient professional athlete of a boyfriend.” 

One more kiss. For good measure. 

By then he had circled to the front of the couch, dropping down to crouch in front of Patrick the Human Blanket Pile. 

“Nope,” Patrick said even as he leaned in for yet another kiss. “No joy whatsoever.” 

“Guess you better stop kissing me then. You wouldn’t want to give me the flu for nothing. Then the team would  _ really  _ be fucked.”

“I think they could live without you.” Patrick smiled against his lips. “I might die though. Literally.”

“Yeah? Case of the man-flu got you down, Peeksy?” 

“I’m just saying. Can you imagine if you let me die? If  _ Patrick fucking Kane  _ died on your watch? The city of Chicago would have your head.”

“And leave the Hawks in the hands of Duncs and Seabs? I don’t think so.” He sat back on his heels, smirking. “Besides, I’d just reveal my status as your gay lover and the public would eat that shit up. The tragedy of it all, y’know. I could be like, a human rights hero here in America.”

“Glad I could die and do that for you, babe.” Kaner scrunched his sick little nose, making Jonny laugh. “You’re not even American.” 

“And yet, I’m the hero America needs.” He laughed and chased down the disgusted Kaner to hold his hands in his. “Kidding, baby. I only wanna be a hero to you.”

“Yeah, me and all of Blackhawks Nation.”

“Yeah, but I don’t cuddle all of Blackhawks Nation when they’re sick, do I?” 

An eyebrow flew up under the wild curls, interest was piqued, and by the time Jonny had climbed his ass onto the couch, all was forgiven.

***

When Jonny got back from that evening’s optional practice, Patrick was worse. 

“Jesus, Peeks. I only left you alone for a couple hours,” he muttered, pulling his hand away from a forehead on fire and covered in sweat. 

“Three hours, you dick.” The barb was undercut by how hoarse it came out. If Patrick was too sick to chirp him properly, Jonny knew it was time to switch modes from “my boyfriend is so dramatic” to “the love of my life is in trouble”. His captain’s brain switched on, ready to do what it took to Fix It. He dropped down to kneel next to Patrick, who didn’t open his eyes.

“Baby, when’s the last time you had anything to drink?”

“Mmph. Dunno.”

“Goddamnit, Peeksy. You’re totally dehydrated.”

Patrick just made a noise of indifference. He was shaking.

Jonny stood, rubbing his eyes in distress. He considered asking if Patrick could walk, but he looked so weak lying there on the couch… And Jonny knew that even if he could, it would be a ten-minute production to get him into bed. As he often did, Jonny thought it better to just take control of the situation. So he did, reaching down to scoop Patrick up into a full bridal carry. 

Even half-conscious as he was, Patrick registered the sense of safety of being in Jonny’s arms. Head resting on the flat plane of Jonny’s chest, arms taut but fingers soft, like Patrick were lighter than air and more delicate than glass. He pressed his face to Jonny’s shirt, hiding, breathing in his scent--pine and the Doublemint gum he was always chewing--wishing he could somehow crawl even closer. Never see the outside world again. Live life from the protective circle of Jonny’s arms. Another wave of nausea broke over him at the movement, but Jonny was taking such care not to jostle him too much--he thought of everything. 

Jonny set him softly on the bed, on top of the covers, pulling a light blanket up over his shoulders. 

“I’m going to call the team doc, see if we need to get you to the hospital,” Jonny murmured, mostly to himself.

“Wait.” 

Jon looked down to see a weak hand on his wrist. He crouched down again, slowly bringing the back of the hand to his lips. He kept it there for a moment, then kept the hand pressed to his cheek as he looked into his boyfriend’s eyes, usually so clear, now foggy and disconnected. His heart clenched a little looking at him. He was usually so quick, able to dodge every danger. But not this.

“What is it, baby?” 

“Don’t go.” 

“I’ll be right back. Go back to sleep, you won’t even know I’m gone.” 

Patrick didn’t respond, just gave him one of the many looks that they’d long since been able to communicate with. Goddamnit. Jonny sighed. He was putty in Peeks’ hands, even when he was like this. 

“Okay, how’s this. I’ll call Dr. Robinson, and if he says everything’s fine, I’ll go get you some ice chips to chew on while I hold you?” 

Patrick looked slightly placated, nuzzling his face back into the pillow. His curls, usually slicked back and controlled, so self-conscious, covered his face, and Jonny felt a surge of fondness in spite of himself. He got up and went out to the kitchen, talking to the team doc on the phone while he made Patrick a water bottle, bowl of ice chips, and a cool rag for his forehead. 

“You’re sure we don’t need to take him in yet?” He said to the doc. “He looks rough.” 

“Yes. If he doesn’t improve within a couple hours, call again. I’ll be available all night. But for now, just try and get him taking some fluids.” There was a pause where the doctor seemed to wait for him to argue, which he was 100% planning on doing. “I know you wanna protect him like you do on the ice, Jonathan. You can’t go enforcer on this, though.” 

“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about!” 

The doctor laughed.

“You forget I’m not just a doctor, Jonathan. I’m a hockey fan, too. I see you out there.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks, doc.” 

Jonny hung up, grumbling under his breath about being an enforcer, which was total bullshit. Sort of. Maybe. Fuck. Was he really that obvious?

_ Who cares,  _ Jonny thought as he wrung out the wash cloth he was preparing for Peeks. So he wanted to protect Patrick. Sue him. Patrick was a ten-million-dollar-a-year asset to the Blackhawks. People should be  _ thanking  _ him.

Because yeah, that’s why Jonny wanted to take care of Patrick at all costs. Definitely his value to the team. His hopeful blue eyes and perfect ass had nothing to do with it at all. 

Jonny re-entered the room quietly in case Patrick had fallen asleep. Of course, no dice there, as Patrick was reaching for him as soon as he lifted his head. Jonny smiled in spite of himself. Good to know some part of Peeks was still himself.

“I’m coming, just lemme set these down, alright?” 

He set the water, rag, and ice chips on the bedside table before settling himself sitting up against the headboard. He pulled Patrick’s head into his lap then, holding the glass of water up for him to drink. When he was satisfied, Jon set down the water and picked up an ice chip. He held it gently to Patrick’s lips, slipping it inside as they parted, fondly pressing the pad of his thumb to Patrick’s bottom lip.

“Good, baby, good. Put your head back down, now.” 

Patrick did as he was told, and when he was settled with his face to Jonny’s stomach, Jonny set the damp cloth over the back of his neck. For a minute he stayed that way, just running his fingers through Patrick’s hair in the quiet dark.

“You doing okay down there, sweetheart?”

“Another ice chip, please.”

Jonny was happy to oblige. He had known he wasn’t going to be comfortable until they were like this: with Patrick curled into him, where he could feel his quivering fever die down, where he could answer for whatever Pat might need of him. Jonny knew that Patrick wasn’t actually that short, just short for a hockey player, but he seemed so small when he was sick. Jonny didn’t know how anyone could look at this man--who was in conversation for the best American player of all time, who worked so hard to be taken seriously, who even after a career that would already put him in the Hall of Fame still played with a chip on his shoulder--and  _ not  _ want to make him see how good he was. And  _ not  _ want to fawn over him and tell him he was valuable not just on the ice but off it. And  _ not  _ want to be his biggest supporter and protector. 

Jonny didn’t say any of that, but Patrick could feel it. His eyes were closed, his breathing was evening out, his shivering was starting to subside. He didn’t think about it exactly, but he was feeling what he always felt around Jonny: loved regardless of his performance. Somehow treated as both strong and delicate--like he should be cared for, but not because he needed to be, but because he deserved it. Held in unconditional positive regard. It seemed insane to say it, but nobody had ever treated him that way before. 

Eventually, Jonny thought Patrick must be asleep. And Patrick was--almost. But he wasn’t too far gone to hear it when Jonny started to whisper: 

“I love you so much, Peeks. I know you’re asleep, and I’m glad because I fuckin’ hate seeing you in pain. I know you don’t need me to, but I wanna make it better for you. I mean, you’re the most joyful fuckin’ person I know--you  _ can’t _ be hurting. You make me so happy, if I could return even a tenth of the favor… If it weren’t for you, I’d probably still be Captain Serious burning holes in the backs of people’s heads--”

Patrick wanted to point out that Jonny was still as intense on the ice as ever, but he just breathed and restrained his smile. Anything to make sure Jonny wouldn’t stop talking. 

“I don’t know who I’d be without you, Peeks. You’re everything. People act like your talent is just something that comes to you, like you don’t work every bit as hard as anyone else, like it isn’t the most difficult thing in the world to make it look effortless. But I see you, Peeks. I see the way you smile, all bashful like you can’t believe someone’s looking at you without skates on. I see it in the way you make people laugh, how you remind me to enjoy the game. I see how pretty you are and how intelligent. And I see how bad you want it. How bad you want people’s admiration. Their approval. Their love. Well, you’ve got mine. You’ve had it, always, since before I even knew how to give it to you. I’d love you if you were on another team, in another country, if you weren’t number 88 or a future hall-of-famer. I can’t help it. I didn’t choose it. It's just true. It's just there.” 


End file.
